Skinning a Cat
by DragonyPhoenix
Summary: Even chipped, Spike can figure a way to get what he wants.
1. Chapter 1

Spike pointed toward the grave. "A Fledge has just risen." Making a show of scanning the cemetery and sniffing the air as if he were trying to find the vamp, he added, "but I'm not sure where."

"How do we find it?" Xander asked.

Spike shoved him. As Xander stumbled against a tombstone Spike called out, "We use bait." By the time Xander had turned around, Spike had vanished.

The Fledge was on Xander almost immediately; hunger had made it stupid. As Xander flailed his arms ineffectively, hitting the Fledge but doing no damage, screaming for help as he tried to free himsel, Spike shifted into position, biding his time until the moment was right. As the heartbeat slowed, Spike shoved a stake into the Fledge.

Tearing open his wrist, Spike knelt into the settling dust, hovering over Xander before lifting him into one arm, smiling as Xander latched on and started to feed. "I may be chipped, but I'm not stupid. There's more than one way to skin a cat."


	2. Chapter 2

Spike shifted Xander to both arms, standing carefully so Xander's head wouldn't get bumped, say on a stray tombstone, even though there was nothing close enough to hit him. "Time to get you home."

Home. "Damn." He hadn't thought through where he'd take Xander. Buffy'd be sure to look in the basement first thing. His old crypt was out too; not only did Buffy know it, but with those soldier boys blundering around none of the cemeteries would be safe. The factory was too predictable, especially since he'd taken Xander and Willow there that last time, and Buffy'd be sure to check the mansion, just in case.

There was that room Angel used to hole up in. Spike grinned. Demons would leave it alone – they tended to live underground – and most humans wouldn't go near it. Whenever she was in town Dru, convinced Daddy's space was being desecrated, had killed anyone stupid enough to be living there.

Skating around the long way, so he wouldn't be noticed by any of the kids heading to the Bronze, Spike carried Xander up the fire escape and in through the window, figuring it was safer than leaving the door kicked in. In one corner, far enough from the window that no light could reach it, was a canopy bed, curtains hanging all the way around, the pale gray fabric looking like something you'd find in a coffin. Pulling the curtains aside, Spike laid Xander on the black bedding, wondering for a moment about the color scheme until he remembered. The last tenant Dru had killed had been a Goth, a little bint of a girl with yellow dreads.

Taking off his leather jacket, Spike draped it over Xander like a blanket. Not that Xander needed the extra warmth but, well, it wasn't like it could hurt the lad. Curling up onto the bed, he wrapped his arms around Xander, staring at him all the night through and well into the next day before finally falling asleep.

Spike woke shortly before dusk. Wanting to have a prezzie waiting for Xander, something to take the edge off before they started in on the mayhem, he stalked through the apartment, searching for anything that might hurt Xander while he was gone, even though he knew the place was empty. Ending by the bed, he closed the curtains, securing them tightly, muttering uncertainly, "Not like anyone will be looking here."

He ransacked through the dresser, searching the drawers until he found what he was looking for, certain that the girl he recalled would have them, a pair of handcuffs. Hanging the cuffs off his belt, he climbed out into the night. It only took about ten minutes to find someone he could lure back to Angel's apartment. About eighteen, her jeans were too ragged to be real, making her a poseur, soft, protected all her life, while her short hair, buzzed almost down to the scalp, and kick-ass boots meant she thought she was tough enough to walk to hell and back. Stepping out of the shadows, he shifted his left hip forward so the light would glint off of the cuffs. As she stopped, a slow smile spread across his lips.

"Never seen you around," she said, walking over.

"Not everyone does," Spike agreed, eying her up and down as if evaluating her. "Nah, a little bitty thing like you wouldn't be up for the danger."

She stepped in closer. "I'm up for just about anything. What'd you have in mind?"

He caressed a hand over her hip. "I'm thinking about checking out that haunted room, the one where all the killings went down."

"The Aerie?" She ran a finger around the edge of his handcuffs.

He brushed his lips across hers. "Is that what they're calling it now?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth, tickling against his for a moment. "I'm game if you are." Skipping backwards, heading down the street, toward Angel's apartment, she added, "If you think you can keep up."

"Oh, I can keep up all right," he said, chasing after. As he caught up, at the edge of Angel's building, he pointed down the alley. "This way. We'll take the stairs." Gesturing toward the fire escape, he said, "Ladies first."

Not wanting to give her time to find Xander, he was right behind her as they climbed in the window. As she glanced around at the room, she said, "This isn't so bad."

"Give it a chance. It gets worse," Spike replied. "Come 'ere." He waved her over to the closet and opened the door. It was crammed full of clothes, mostly black, although there were a few leather pieces as well.

Brushing her hand over pants covered in painted skulls, she asked, "All this shit was just left here?"

Stepping in behind her, trapping her body against his, Spike ran his hand down her arm, trailing a finger over it lightly, seductively. Taking her hand in his, he raised it up, placing it on the clothes pole. As she grabbed on, wrapping her hand over the top of the hangers, he nuzzled against her neck. "Hold on."

Looking over her shoulder, licking her lips, she pushed her ass against him. "For dear life?"

"Something like that."

There was a flash, faster than she could follow, a clicking sound, and cold metal against her wrist. She was handcuffed to the pole. "Hey you little fucker, let me go."

He stepped back, staring at her dispassionately. "Thought you weren't afraid."

"I'm not," she yelled. "I just don't like surprises."

His lips twitched up at the edges as he saw the fear in her eyes.

"I said, let me go," she shouted, pulling against the cuffs.

Spike shifted into vamp-face. "Boo."

Screaming, she cowered against the clothes. Yanking a tank top off a hanger, Spike stuffed the shirt into her mouth. "I'm not gonna hurt ya."

She screamed against the gag, the sound tiny and weak in the vast silence of Angel's room.

"Shhh," he said, placing a finger over her mouth. "I told ya, I'm not the one you have to worry about." Walking over to the bed, he pulled aside the curtains, gazing at Xander, his eyes soft with affection. "He's the one. When he wakes up, you're his."


	3. Chapter 3

Within a place no-place, in a time out-of-time, the demon, sensing change, sensing an opportunity, fell. Grabbing onto human flesh as eyes, heart, and even the very cells transformed into something other than human, from the cage of his new shell, the demon, an instinctive hatred rising, watched as the soul flittered off, fluttering above the body, dancing here and there but moving ever further away. _Butterfly. Soap bubble._ The words were supplied by the waste, the detritus that the soul had left behind.

Turning now that it had something to shed its rage on, the demon shredded Xander's spirit, devouring his memories, feeding on his screams, learning history, the markers that held meaning for its host: the first suckling of milk, how sweet it had tasted on the tongue; motion, crawling forward, grabbing, touching, tasting; Willow and the yellow crayon; that time Mom had forgotten to pick him up and Willow's mother had given him a ride home – how ashamed he felt that she knew he'd been left; Jesse and that time they'd shared an ice cream cone, taking turns licking it, perfectly happy until Cordelia, making a fuss, had called them freaks; his first Batman comic; Jesse's death, the demon mourning the loss of one of its kind; meeting the Slayer and finding out demons were real; making out in the utility closet with Cordy; betraying her with Willow; making out for real with Faith; patrolling with Spike; the betrayal, death at the hands of a Fledge and the chance for a new life. Most of these things made little or no impression on the demon, only the greatest loves and hates stood out.

As the demon took over the shell, what it now knew to call a body, conquering the lands abandoned by the soul, awareness emerged. He could hear a muffled screaming, a sound that filled him with a desire to tear throat and suck down salty-sweet blood. Thousands of tiny things scuttled all around, giving him a sense of space. Recalling Jesse and the sound of worms, he finally understood as he listened to the music made by roaches crawling through the walls. He panicked as he felt fingers on his scalp, at that invasion of his body, until the memories gave him a word, _massage_, telling him it was a sign of affection, and more importantly he recognized the scent. "Sire." Blinking open his eyes, he saw blue eyes peering down at him, sharp cheekbones, and bleached blond spikes of hair. "Spike."

Spike grinned and brushed their lips together, just for a moment, before holding out a hand, helping Xander up. "How do you feel?"

Liquid fire flowed through his veins. "Powerful."

"Hungry?"

Xander turned his head toward the screams. A girl, some sort of black cloth stuffed in her mouth, yanked at handcuffs, pulling on the pole they were chained to, tears and snot running down her face as she tried to escape. His lips lifted into a twist of a grin. "Is that for me?"

At Spike's nod, Xander leaped across the room, stopping just shy of his victim. Twisting his head to look at Spike, he said, "I want my parents to be first."

"Huh?" Spike asked.

"My parents, I want them to be my first kill."

"Pet," Spike said, "if you don't eat first, you'll be too hungry to torture them properly."

"No." Xander turned his back to the girl. "You eat her."

Spike's mouth clenched into a tight line as he tilted his head and stared at Xander. "Can't."

Xander's eyes narrowed for a moment and then widened as he realized what Spike meant. Dashing across the room, he brushed his fingertips across Spike's scalp. "Hey! Watch the hair." As Xander licked at the back of his head, Spike's shoulders slumped. "You can't see it. Buried to deep, init?"

Wrapping his arms around Spike as if trying to shield his Sire from harm, Xander asked, "How do we get rid of it?"

Spike relaxed against him. "Working on it," he said, which Xander took to mean he had no idea.

Xander, leaning his head on Spike's left shoulder, stared off at nothing. "You can't feed off of humans at all."

Spike shrugged. "I can think of ways around it, if I had help." Nodding toward the girl, he said, "You could slit her throat and drain her like they do cows or there's medical equipment that'd get the job done or you could feed from her and let me feed from you."

Turning his head to the right, away from Xander, he added, "Of course, if we did that now it'd mean your first kill wouldn't be your parents."

Xander knew his human self would have killed the girl then and there, well no, that white hatted geek wouldn't have killed her at all, but he would have put Spike's needs before his own. The idea flashed across his mind, to kill the girl first, leaving his parents for later. No. He couldn't do that, not even for Spike.

After a long moment, Spike spoke. "Come on then, let's get over to your parent's place."

Standing next to a palm tree in the front yard, Xander stared at the white stucco walls of the house he'd grown up in, while Spike, waiting a few steps back, wondered why he didn't just get on with it, not that there was a huge rush. They had all night after all. Finally he spoke, giving Xander a bit of advice. "If you let them scream, neighbors might call the cops."

"Not a problem," Xander said. "Neighbors are used to shouts from this house. How do I get in?"

"If you knock on the door, especially after being gone for a day, family will tend to extend the invitation," Spike replied, his speech pattern unconsciously reverting to the formality of his human years.

"Come on," Xander said. He knocked on the door, but there was no response. Knocking again, he called out, "Mom, I forgot my keys. Let me in."

"Jess, your worthless excuse of a son is back. Get the goddamn door already."

The door opened. A woman, presumably Xander's mother, dressed in a bathrobe, stood there with a glass of gin in hand. "Xander, honey, where have you been? Your father's been terribly upset."

"I'm sure he has."

"Xander?" a man shouted out. "Get your ass in here and bring me a beer."

Stepping into the house, Xander said, "Mom, this is Spike."

Spike, stepping in behind, gave Xander a look but played along. Holding out his hand, he said, "How do you do Mrs. Harris?"

"Xander, you know your father doesn't like you having friends over." Turning to Spike, she added, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave."

"And I'm thinking not." Xander shifted into vamp face, bit down, tearing into her throat, and dropped the body to the floor all in one quick flash of motion.

"Told you it'd be quick if you didn't eat first," Spike said as the body hit the floor.

Practically bouncing on his feet, a huge almost dopey grin on his face, Xander's excitement left him looking more like his human self than Spike had ever expected to see again. "That's all right, Dad's the one I really want to hurt."

Xander stalked into the living room like a predator, even his excitement couldn't overwhelm the natural grace the demon had given him. Spike, trailing behind, stopped at the edge of the room, admiring the quick flowing motion of Xander's steps as he waited for the show to begin.

Even with his eyes glued to the tv, Xander's father noticed Spike. "Who's your gay friend? And where's my beer?"

"Got a little gift for you, Dad. No, let's make that Tony." Xander's punch, knocking Tony in the jaw, sent the La-Z-Boy, a plaid monstrosity of yellows and greens, rocking back and forth.

"Is that how it is?" Tony asked as he stood, wiping blood from his face. "I give a roof over your head, feed and clothe you, and now you think that you're all grown up, that you can take on your old man?"

Xander punched him again, one quick jab that sent Tony sprawling back. Picking himself off the couch, Tony rushed Xander. Stepping to the side, out of the line of attack, Xander kicked his leg out as Tony rushed past. There was the sound of a snap and then Tony fell screaming to the floor, his hands reaching down to the break, to where bone was showing through.

Xander, squatting down next to his father, brushed one sharp fingernail against the skin, cutting a line down his father's shoulder. "Hey, what the hell do you think your doing?" Tony shouted, turning from the break to growl at Xander. _Must be where Xander got his strength from_, Spike thought with a grudging admiration for the man.

A quick elbow to the face knocked Tony down to the floor. Leaning down, Xander clamped his mouth over the wound, the cut he'd just made in Tony's shoulder, and sucked in blood. Sitting back up, his mouth open so that Spike could see the blood pooled there, Xander waved Spike over.

Spike, wondering if Xander meant what he thought he meant, squatted down next to him. As they kissed, blood poured into Spike's mouth with Xander's tongue. Spike's lips smiled against Xander's, touched that his Childe would share this kill. Once Spike had finished drinking down that mouthful of blood, Xander made another cut, along his father's clavicle, and took another mouthful of blood, sharing it with Spike, and then another and another.

Three hours had passed, their kisses getting longer, hands wandering to tweak nipples or brush against cocks still bound behind cloth. Xander's father had weakened and was nearing death, when Spike nodded toward him, saying "Not much left now." His voice grew husky as he ran a finger down the button-line of Xander's shirt. "Finish him off."

Xander had his father drained in a flash. Spike slowly stood and held his hand out, wordlessly asking Xander to join him. When Xander stood before him, Spike tossed his leather jacket onto the couch, brushing his hands over Xander's shoulders and then down his arms, pushing the shirt off of him. Wrapping his arms around Xander, Spike kissed along his jawline. "Let me feed, Childe," he whispered.

Xander bared his neck, grabbing onto Spike as if he couldn't stand on his own as Spike fed. He finished quickly, only taking a small bit. "What should we do next?" he leered.

"Mmmmm," Xander moaned, leaning against him. "Find Willow."

Spike smiled, thinking about teaching Xander the finer points of torture. "Willow next, eh?"

Xander's grin, that goofy, excited smile he'd had as a human, gave him away, letting Spike know how important this was to him. "I can't wait to see what she'll be like as a vamp."

Spike shoved him. Shouting "You're mine" as Xander bump-slid across the table and crashed down onto a chair on the other side.

Xander peered over the table. "Sire?"

"I'll kill her first."

"No," Xander shouted, rising to his feet.

Spike circled round the table in two steps, slamming Xander into the wall so hard plaster fell to the floor. "You telling me what to do?"

"No, definitely not," Xander babbled. "It's just... it's..."

"It's what?"

"Your chip," Xander exclaimed.

"Huh?"

"She's a supergenius. If anyone can figure out how to get rid of your chip, it's Willow."

Spike glared at Xander for a long moment. "All right then," he said. "Where's she at?"

"At this hour? Either in bed at her parent's house or Tara's dorm."

"Tomorrow then," Spike said.

Xander nodded. "She's too much a child of Sunnydale to come out for anyone, even me, in the middle of the night."


	4. Chapter 4

Spike's face, which had been so expressive of his affection since Xander had been Turned, set into a mask of indifference. "Get washed up. I'll pick out some clothes for you."

The night soured, even killing has parents took on a dim pallor. "Not much to choose from," Xander replied."

"You'll need to look as much like your human self as possible until Willow's been Turned. If she's such a smart one, even the smallest hint might be too much."

Xander, unable to think up an argument to that, led the way to the basement. As he stepped into the bathroom, he glanced back, hoping Spike would join him, but his Sire continued on to the closet and started rummaging through the clothes there, holding shirts out, scrutinizing them, and then discarding based on some criteria Xander couldn't follow.

By the time Xander had finished showering, Spike was in the kitchenette, standing at the open fridge, loading the last of the pig's blood into a duffel bag. Xander, pretending he didn't notice, walked to his bed, wondering how much that Willow comment had cost him. Didn't Spike trust that Xander would keep him fed, no matter what it took? Could he actually believe Xander would leave him for Willow? Xander thought about that. He'd known Willow since forever, and she had a loyalty in her that went down to her very core. He wanted that loyalty, that devotion, but Spike had it as well. Look how he'd stuck with Dru, batty as a mad hatter as she was, for over a century. For the first time, Xander felt like he was the one calling the shots. It was nice.

Looking over the clothes that Spike had laid out, blue jeans and a shirt with Scooby Doo dogs all over it, Xander decided to test that power. "Do I really have to wear this?" he asked, holding up the shirt.

"Yep."

Hanging his head, Xander peered over, turning just a tad toward Spike.

"You can stop playing me. I'm not going to change my mind."

"But look at these things," Xander said, standing up straight.

"I did look at them. Picked them out, didn't I?" Spike said. "Tell you what, we'll pick you up some new clothes on the way home, but you can't wear 'em yet."

Tossing a handful of frozen dinners in with the blood, Spike led them downtown, dropping the blood off a Willy's, telling him to keep it cold until he returned for it. Breaking open a door in some dark alley, Spike led Xander into a shop, a place Xander didn't even know existed. It was jammed full of clothes – leather, lace, silk – and toys – whips, dildos, and things Xander hadn't even imagined as a human.

"Try this," Spike said, tossing over a silk shirt, so dark a maroon it was almost black.

Pulling off all his clothes as Spike stared wandering through the racks, Xander admired the feel of the silk as he pulled it on, taking his time with each button so that, when Spike returned, his arms full of leather and silk, Xander still had three buttons, up at the top of his chest, open.

Spike dropped the clothes. Xander's smile was half smirk as he asked, "See something you like?"

"Chiaroscuro," Spike whispered.

Xander didn't know what that meant but liked the sound of it on Spike's lips.

"It's a painting term, describing the play of light and shade," Spike explained.

Tilting his head down, glancing through his eyelashes, Xander asked, "And that's good?"

"Oh, that's very good," Spike replied.

"So I can lose my old clothes?" Xander asked hopefully.

"Not until I say so," Spike said.

After they'd finished picking out clothes for Xander, they headed back out into the night. A few blocks from the shop, Spike turned to the right, walking away from the apartment. "I thought we were done for the night," Xander said.

"Are," Spike replied, glancing back at him. Tracking down the street, he added, "Oh, that was temporary. Wanted somewhere safe till you'd been turned and Angel's old place was the safest spot I could think of, but I don't fancy bunking there long term."

Xander grinned, feeling as happy as when he'd killed his parents. "You stayed in Angel's place just for me?"

Spike's face relaxed into a smile as he brushed fingers over Xander's cheek. "Didn't want to lose you."

"Can we get back to..." Tilting his head, Xander added, "Where are we going?"

"Crypt," Spike said with a shrug. "Can't stay forever. Once Buffy knows you've been Turned, she'll come looking, but it'll do for now."

Xander brushed his free hand, the one not carrying clothes, down Spike's chest. "How quickly do you think we can get there?"

"Pretty fast," Spike said, tearing down the street. Spike led Xander to a room under the crypt where he'd set up a bed. "Careful with your clothes," Spike warned when it looked like Xander was about to rip them off.

"You do it then, 'cause I'll tear 'em to shreds."

"Such an impatient thing you are," Spike teased, working the buttons on Xander's shirt. "Oh sod it," he added, ripping at the shirt, popping off the bottom four buttons.

"And I'm the impatient one?"

"Just get your pants off," Spike said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off his boots.

They slept well into the next day, not waking until they heard Willow in the crypt above. "Hello? Spike?"

"Showtime," Xander said, grabbing a shirt out of the bag.

"Um, pet, what did we say about your new clothes?"

"Oh." Xander dropped the silk shirt, reluctantly putting on the Scooby Doo top.

"Be right up," Spike called, pulling on his leather pants.

"Have you seen Xander? The mailman found the door open at this parents' house and, well, it was bad."

Spike nudged Xander, nodding his head toward the crypt above them. "I'm here Willow," Xander called out, climbing the ladder. "We saw the damage at the house."

Spike, climbing below Xander, hit his ankle. "Don't tell her that," he whispered. "She'll wonder why you didn't report in."

"Um, we fled but demons chased us."

"Once we got safely here," Spike added, "I wasn't about to let him out again, not with those demons wandering around. I'm afraid we got a bit tuckered out and crashed."

As Xander stepped off the ladder, Willow threw herself at him, grabbing him into a hug. "Oh, I've been so worried." Xander wrapped his arms around her, as if returning the hug, effectively catching her in a trap."

"You're freezing," Willow exclaimed. Yelling at Spike, she added, "What are you doing, letting him get... so. Cold?"

"You always were the smart one," Xander replied to her questioning look. Flashing into vamp-face, he sank his fangs into her neck.

Spike, leaning against one wall of the crypt, one arm across his chest, smoking, waited for Xadner to finish with Willow.

When Willow had stopped drinking at the cut Xander had cut across his chest, he looked to Spike. "What now?"

"You toss her in one of these," Spike said, slapping a hand across one of the stone coffins, "and give it time. After she's settled, head on downstairs. If anyone comes, you hide. Head off into the tunnels if you have to."

Xander, cradling Willow in his arms, stood. "Where're you going?"

Spike, his eyes fixed firmly on Willow, said, "To get myself some insurance."

Because it was still light out, Spike took the tunnels, thanking the assorted public officials who'd chosen to put vamp-friendly thoroughfares all under town. By the time he'd gotten to campus, night had fallen, allowing him to being his hunt immediately.

He didn't know where she lived, but he'd heard her name, only once though. He thought back to that night; Anya, tactless as ever, had been talking about human marriage customs, wedding and bridal showers and such not. "If we got married, I'd be required to take Xander's last name, Anya Harris." Spike grinned. It had been rather fun to watch Xander spurting soda over that little comment. Turning to Tara, Anya had asked, "If you and Willow got married, would you be Tara Rosenberg?" Shifting her gaze to Willow, she'd added, "or would you be Willow? Hey, what is Tara's last name?"

"Maclay," Tara had said helpfully. "She'd be Willow Maclay," she'd added with a mischievous grin.

"That's it," Spike said, breaking into the Administration Office. He typed Maclay onto the keyboard and there it was, dorm and room number.

Not knowing how he'd find her if she wasn't home, he knocked on the door. She answered right away, calling out, "Willow?" Her face fell when she saw him. "Spike," she stuttered. "What are you doing here?"

Hope this works, Spike thought. "It's Willow. She's OK," he said, holding his hands out as if to stop her from rushing off, "well, she's hurt a bit but not much. No need for Giles to insist I come find you."

"Willow's hurt?" she asked, stepping out of the room.

He punched her before he could think about it, knowing that even the decision to hit her would hurt him like a bloody train wreck. As his fist smashed into her temple, his head exploded. When he came to, there were about a half dozen students standing around, not doing anything useful, asking if he was OK, but Tara was still out so that part had worked out all right. As he carried her off, Spike started thinking about where he could stash her.


End file.
